


A Dangerous Secret

by rosa_himmelblau



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8842741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: What's the best joke in the world worth?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Loyal Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028) by [Keiko Kirin (sakana17)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin). 



Vinnie had never seen Sonny in as good a mood as he was in this morning. He wouldn't call it giddy, but—well, yeah, he would, if he didn't have to say it to Sonny's face. Besides the occasional outbreak of private chuckling, there was his downright friendliness to Sid—which seemed to be making Sid very nervous, which only increased Sonny's amusement. When Sid finally left, Vinnie said, "I think he's gonna go hide under his desk; what do you think?"  
  
"I hope he does." And laughed.  
  
"It wasn't that funny; but if I'm that good a comedian, I should get treated like the talent."  
  
"You aren't that funny an' you already get treated better than the talent. C'm'on, we're going out."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Where? I dunno; I'll tell you when we get there—come on."  
  
They ended up at the beach, after Sonny had driven around for nearly an hour, laughing occasionally.  
  
"I don't know what they put in your coffee this morning, but I wish I'd ordered the same thing," Vinnie said at last. "What is it with you?"  
  
"I'm in a good mood; you got a problem with that?"  
  
"No, good moods are fine. But you seem—" Well, he wasn't going to say giddy.  
  
"Seem what?" Sonny demanded, though he still seemed unable to suppress the laughter.  
  
"I dunno. Not like yourself. What're we doing here, anyway?"  
  
"Needed to go someplace where the walls don't have ears. And no walls—" he motioned to the long expanse of beach, "means no ears. C'm'on, we're goin' for a walk."  
  
They walked for a long time, at the edge of the water, Vinnie completely confused. Sonny still seemed exuberant, but there was a cautiousness about him, his eyes constantly scanning the area. Seeming satisfied by their privacy—they could have been the on ly people on the planet—he said, "I have something here that's pure dynamite. And I'm gonna burn it, get rid of it, because having it can only be a danger. But before I do, I gotta ask you—how much do you think the world's best joke is worth?"  
  
Vinnie considered before he said with utter honesty, "Sonny, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."  
  
"I'm willing to tell you what's got me so tickled—in fact, I'll be real disappointed not to tell you, but you gotta know that this joke is the most dangerous thing you may ever hear. You repeat it, I'll kill you myself, just to prove you didn't hear it fr om me, you understand? So it's your choice—you want me to tell you or not?"  
  
Vinnie grinned. "How could I resist a build-up like that?"  
  
And Sonny laughed. "Good. I had a guy I know do a little digging—just to see what he could find out, without ruffling any feathers."  
  
For a second Vinnie's heart stopped. "What kind of digging?" as casual as his fear would let him be.  
  
"Hey, if you're gonna go head-to-head with a guy, the more you know about him, the better." Sonny explained this like he was talking to a mental defective. "And just because you **think** you know a guy doesn't mean you do; everybody's got secrets—some bet ter'n others, even if you've known 'em your whole life."  
  
Patrice. And his heart rate returned to normal. "Yeah, of course."  
  
"Well, this guy didn't find much I didn't already know, or could possibly care about; nothing that'd do me any good. But he did find something—" and the laughter started again.  
  
"What? Wha'd you find out?"  
  
"Doctor's report—an old one. Don't know how much they paid this guy off for this, but I bet he retired early—an' far away."  
  
"What, he had mono in high school?"  
  
"You remember what I told you about how Patty got his nickname?"  
  
"Yeah, the bet with the cat."  
  
"Well, apparently that cat got in the last word after all. Guess Patty didn't want to tell anybody just how seriously the cat got him, an' by the time he did, he'd got himself a pretty serious infection—"  
  
For a second this didn't connect, then, "Wait a second, what're you telling me?"  
  
"Guess that cat was carrying some heavy-duty germs on his claws. Infection to gangrene to—" Sonny was off again, laughing too hard to speak, and now Vinnie was chuckling too, though he still wasn't sure he'd heard the punchline. Finally Sonny managed to get out, "The antibiotics must'a got there too late, 'cause finally all the doctor could do was amputate!"  
  
**That** was the punchline. Vinnie found himself laughing as well, though a part of him felt sick.  
  
"Guess this explains why nobody ever sees him with the same girl twice—"  
  
_Oh, hell, it **is** funny, even if it is completely sick._  
  
"Say, Pat, how's that circumcision working out for you?" Sonny added. "At least I know what to by him for Christmas—that extra pair of socks is more important than anyone knows."  
  
"Who says you didn't find out anything important?" Vinnie demanded. Sonny just looked at him, unable to speak from the laughter. "We now know who the richest man in New York is."  
  
"Who?" Sonny gasped.  
  
"Patrice's tailor. You know, that's one advantage—he never has to worry about how those perfectly-creased pants hang—"  
  
"Oh, shit—" Sonny lost it completely. He sat down in the sand, holding his stomach. Vinnie joined him.  
  
"I heard he never carries change because it ruins the line of a suit, but this is going a little far, don't you think?"  
  
"Stop it—" Sonny gasped, unable to breathe for the laughter.  
  
"I mean, appearances are important, but—"  
  
Sonny gave him a shove, and Vinnie began to really laugh with him.  
  
Sonny carefully shredded the papers and they watched the pieces blow into the ocean, then they headed back to the car. "You know, you were wrong about what we got out of this," Sonny said as they neared the car. His voice was light, but there was a bedrock of seriousness.  
  
Vinnie looked at him. He was still a little unsteady on his feet—not punch-drunk, but laughter-drunk. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, Patrice's tailor's not the richest man in New York." His tone still held laughter, but Sonny's eyes were dead serious.  
  
"No? How do you figure?"  
  
"Simple. I know Patrice. And that tailor, whoever he is, that poor sonofabitch's keeping his mouth shut because somewhere Patty's got his whole fucking family stashed away, just in case this guy gets a little mouthy one night. Then, pow-pow-pow, they all get it. That's how Patrice works."  
  
Sonny got back in the car, calm and cool. Vinnie closed his eyes for a second, a shiver running through him. _"That's how Patrice works."_

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in response to "A Loyal Man."


End file.
